The Trick is to Keep Breathing
by kellocfan1
Summary: Someone once said it's the good girls who keep diaries. The bad girls never have the time.


_I do not own One Tree Hill. This starts off during season one, but then goes in a completely different direction. Reviews would be greatly appreciated._

--

I don't know how to keep a fucking journal. I've never had a journal before in my entire life. Who the hell has time to keep a journal anyway? Not anyone with any sort of social life, that's for sure.

It all started when my dumb ass parents decided to send me to therapy. This was totally unnecessary by the way. I will admit that I do have a few…_ issues.. _but it's nothing that I can't work through on my own. I've been fighting off demons by myself for as long as I can remember. So tell me, what the hell gives my absentee parents the right to play the parenting card _now?_ Seriously?

Anyway, the guy that they decided to send me to is a total whack job. All of the degrees and awards hanging on his wall don't mean shit to me. It doesn't mean he knows what I'm going through. When his boyfriend and his best friend sneak around behind his back, we'll talk, but until then? I'm keeping my mouth shut. I don't care how much of my parents money goes down the drain. I didn't ask for this.

Dr. Andrews, my therapist, seemed to catch onto this real quick. He's having me write down my thoughts and my feelings and whatever the hell else in this journal until I can actually talk to him about it. 200 a session, and all I'm getting out of it is a shitty notepad? Is this not complete and total bullshit? I still don't understand why my parents insisted on sending me in the first place. Because I looked "sad and troubled?" They once walked in on me having sex and didn't say a word, but _this_ they decide to take seriously? Whatever. Enough venting about therapy. Onto the heavy stuff..

I'm not mad. Peyton and Lucas assume I'm mad, mostly because I haven't talked to either of them since I saw them going at it on that pathetic little webcam of hers. I'm not mad, though, and I thought they knew me well enough to tell.

Take Peyton, my former best friend. We had the kind of friendship that, at any given moment, we would know exactly what the other was thinking. This was mostly a good thing, as I can't even remember how many times she had prevented me from going home with someone who just wasn't worth my time.. Like that sleazy bartender who would always be way off on the Bacardi and coke ratio.. Anyway, she was the one who had stopped me from going there, and I had been forever grateful … until now.

Peyton thinks I'm mad. I'm not mad. I'm mad when my parents leave the country without telling me. I'm mad when my squad is hung over the day of a competition. But when the two people I trust most in this world betray me in the worst way possible? I'm not mad. I'm _devastated._

The worst part was watching it all happen with my very eyes. The fact that I was betrayed by such dumb asses is truly upsetting. I know that Peyton doesn't mind putting her personal life on display, but for God's sakes, how hard can it be to turn off a fucking webcam?

My phone rings again. This time it's Lucas. I consider chucking it across the room, but that's something an angry, psychotic person would do. But I'm not mad. I'm just not talking to him.

Remember when I said that the worst part was watching it on Peyton's webcam? I lied. The worst part was that Peyton was given ample opportunity to confess her feelings, but decided to wait until I was hopelessly in love with the guy to finally fess up.

They didn't have sex. Peyton had assured me of this, assuming that it would make everything better and that we would go back to being best friends again. To be honest, as twisted as this may sound, I'd rather they did have sex. I'm not some prude like Haley James who thinks that having sex is, like, giving away part of your heart or something. To me, sex is a need and nothing more. The fact that all they did was kiss proves that he had far more respect for her than he had ever had for me. Hence the devastation.

It's a Friday night and I'm home alone, stuffing my face with ice cream, and watching Laguna Beach reruns. There's a party going on. There always is. This time it's Haley James who's the host. Now that she and Nathan Scott are practically married, we can all expect that she'll soon be the new queen B, that abstinence will be the new trend, and that hell will freeze over. Whatever.

Lucas and Peyton are there. They're probably expecting me to arrive, fashionably late, of course, and are waiting to ambush me with their apologies and their "We never meant to hurt you"'s. This is the reason why I've instead opted for a threesome with Ben and Jerry.

My phone rings again. I expect it to be Lucas or Peyton, but surprisingly it's Rachel. She's a bitch, but I love her. Peyton will have sex with a random guy and cry about it for a month, and Rachel will be the one to tell her to shut the hell up. She knows she's a whore, but is somehow proud of it. She's like a clone of me, but with fiery red hair. And all this time I thought Peyton was the one I had so much in common with…

"Hey whore." I say. In our language, this is like saying 'I love you.'

"Sup slut?" she replies. "Where the hell are you? If you're still brooding over your breakup I swear to God I'll come over there and kick your fat ass myself. Get over it. And get over here."

Normally, I would dish out some witty insult, but she had already hung up. As much as I don't want to see Lucas and Peyton, I do feel the need to get drunk out of my mind, and my parents keep all the good stuff locked up. After some serious contemplation, I jog upstairs to get ready for the party. I have a brand new strappy tank top and a short, denim skirt that leaves absolutely nothing to the imagination. I can't wait for some guy to tear it all off of me … preferably with his teeth. _Kinky._

--

The party is in full swing when I arrive. It's at Nathan's apartment. Apparently, he's gotten himself emancipated. I can't understand who would _want _to live in a shithole like this when their parents are fucking loaded. Whatever makes him happy, I guess.. Of course, the first person I make eye contact with is one of the two people I had been hoping to avoid. I roll my eyes and walk toward the kitchen. I don't believe I've ever needed a drink so badly in my life. Peyton follows, pleading with me the entire time.

I pour some Bacardi and diet Pepsi into a blue, plastic cup and mix it using the antenna of my cell phone. Finally, I look up at Peyton, who is insisting that her and Lucas are just friends. Bullshit. She's wearing dark, skinny jeans and a black tube top. Her blonde spirals compliment her style nicely, as does her dark make-up. Once upon a time, I would have praised her appearance, but tonight I find myself staring at her blankly.

"Peyton," I say, trying to remain calm. This is the first time I've actually talked to her since the incident. "If you want to be with Lucas, I think you should. Don't worry about losing me; you already have." I leave her with those lasting words as I walk into the other room, drink in hand.

"Brooke!" Rachel waves me over. She is sitting at a table with Nathan, Haley, and, to my horror, Lucas, along with a few others. "Come sit." she slurs. "We were just about to play 'I Never,' and the game sucks without you."

This is true. I am a legend at 'I Never.' I take pride in the fact that no one is more shocking and scandalous than I am. I notice Peyton walk in and sit next to Mouth. Being in the same room, let alone the same _table _with Lucas and Peyton is, in no way, appealing to me. "Nah, I think I'll sit this one out."

Of course, five minutes later I'm sandwiched between Nathan and Rachel, listening as Rachel goes over the rules for those who haven't played before, a.k.a. Haley and Mouth.

"I'll start." Haley offers, surprising everyone at the table. "I've never had sex." she states proudly, almost annoyingly so. I scoff and drink, as does everyone at the table with the exception of Haley and Mouth.

It's Nathan's turn and he's quick to say "I've never had sex with Lucas."

Perhaps he wanted to humiliate me. Perhaps he wanted to know if Peyton, his ex-girlfriend, has had sex with his brother. Whatever the case may be, I am not happy, but take a drink nonetheless. Rachel is the only other one to drink. Everyone looks at her questioningly.

"What? I was thirsty." I smile, thankful to her for the distraction.

It's now my turn, and I have something that's steamier than sex- if that's even possible. "I've never been in love." I say, looking directly at Lucas. This is, of course, a lie, but I'm a bitch, and if he feels even a fraction of the pain I felt after his betrayal, then I'll be satisfied. I can see the pain in his eyes as he takes a sip. Peyton drinks, as well. _Just friends, my ass. _And finally, so does a hesitant Haley. Nathan's eyes widen and they say 'I love you' for the first time ever as everyone else looks on in adoration.. Except for me. Damn, if I would have known that this would be the result of my attempt to hurt Lucas, I never would've said anything.

"I've never been involved in a threesome." Rachel states. Everyone looks at her doubtfully. "I may be easy, but I'm not sleazy." Me and Nathan are the only ones to drink this time, proving that we are, and always have been, Tree Hill's top partiers. Maybe not so much him anymore now that he's been whipped by a virgin. But not in the fun, kinky way that we all would have hoped.

"I've never had a girlfriend." Mouth says when it's his turn. The only ones to drink are Lucas and Nathan as a result of Mouth's bad wording. 'I've never been in a relationship' would have been better, I decide. Suddenly, I feel sorry for Mouth. Maybe I can set him up with someone? I consider each one of my shallow, cheerleader friends. _Or maybe not.._

"I've never had sex with someone I wasn't in a relationship with." Peyton claims. This is total bullshit, but I decide to let it go as I take good, long drink. I should have to down an entire bottle for this one. Nathan, Lucas, and Rachel drink, too, and the game moves forward.

"I've never been so sorry in my entire life." Lucas looks directly at me as he says this. I quickly look away, annoyed that he would bring it up in front of everyone.

"Okay Lucas, you should have to drink for that one just because it didn't make any fucking sense." Rachel says, and everyone laughs. This is the second time she's saved me tonight, and I smile at her gratefully. She seems to understand.

"I've never cheated on a test." Haley says as we start from the beginning. Everyone drinks. Sometimes I wonder what Nathan sees in tutor girl. She's so predictable, and I can't understand how her innocence doesn't annoy the hell out of him. I don't give this too much thought, though. Sure, Nathan used to be a lot more fun, but if he wants to be Haley's pathetic little lap dog, that's entirely his business.

"I've never been cheated on." Nathan glances at me and smirks as he says this, and I can't understand why he's being such an asshole. I down the rest of my drink and slam it down on the table before meeting his gaze. "Are you sure about that? I mean, you were with Peyton for awhile.. Are ya sure she didn't fuck Lucas behind your back?" I glance around the table, satisfied with the impact my words had made. "Oh wait, that's right.. She doesn't sleep with guys she's not in a relationship with.. My bad." I mimic her earlier claim, keeping in mind all the times she would bitch and moan to me about a one-night stand. Pathetic.

"Brooke!" Bevin, my hopelessly stupid friend, calls over to me from across the room. "Come do shots with us!" I consider this. If I keep playing 'I Never,' Mouth may reveal that he's never kissed a girl.. Or maybe Haley will inform us that she's never watched an rated R movie.. I have to admit, these people are painfully boring for my taste. "Always a pleasure." I say before getting up to join the already tipsy cheerleaders. It's about time I catch up, anyway...

--

I wake up the next morning. The details of the previous night are hazy at best. I prop myself up onto my elbows, and my head throbs in pain as I do so. I recognize this room. I recognize the bed I'm laying on. I recognize the emptiness of the room, with the exception of just the bare essentials and a few classic novels. Mostly, I recognize the red door and the person standing beside it. He had painted it for me. At the time, I thought it was the sweetest thing in the world, but now it just serves as a painful reminder of what he did.

"What am I doing here?" I ask, confused and angry at myself for having to ask this question and break my vow of silence. Damn alcohol related memory loss.

"Last night you were sort of…" he trails off. "So I took care of you."

He says this in such a high and mighty way. It's almost as if he expects me to be forever grateful and forgive his every flaw. This just further upsets me. "I'm not yours to take care of!" I snap at him. "Do me a favor and don't do me any more favors."

And despite the fact that the room is literally spinning, I get up and leave, slamming the red door behind me.

--

It's Saturday at dusk and here I am writing in my fucking journal. God, I couldn't be anymore of a loser if I called up tutor girl myself and invited her to come over and study. Rachel just called and asked if I was ready for round two. I told her that after the night I had, the only thing I'm ready for is an early grave. Like, a _way _early grave. She told me to stop being so dramatic, to put on my sluttiest outfit, and to wait by the door. So here I am. If anyone asks, I'm only killing time until Rachel gets here. Because honestly… only losers write in journals. I'm talking complete and total outcasts. Ask anyone.

Ope, there's Rach. Gotta go. With any luck, you wont be hearing from me again. I don't care what Dr. Andrews, or my parents, or anyone else says. Brooke Davis does not answer to anyone, _especially _some lame ass journal.

--

Okay, I'm back. But only because of what happened last night. I need to jot this down to remind myself that Lucas Scott is the biggest prick on the planet, and Peyton? What a fucking whore. Do. Not. Trust. Them. They can't keep their hands off each other for two seconds. Not even with the innocent ex-girlfriend/ex-best friend standing two feet away. God. I need to go break something. Preferably something valuable belonging to my parents. That'll show them for putting me in therapy when, clearly, I'm _fine. _

Without thinking, I pick up my mother's priceless vase and chuck it across the room. I watch as it smashes against the wall and breaks into a million pieces.

Okay…so maybe I'm a little mad.


End file.
